


Imagine

by WennyT



Series: Writing Challenges for Yunho x Changmin [7]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Domestic, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Fluff, Gen, I Blame Tumblr, Imagine your OTP, M/M, One Shot Collection, Prompt Fill, Slice of Life, Tumblr: imagineyourotp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-23 10:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3764872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WennyT/pseuds/WennyT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>You may say I'm a dreamer / but I'm not the only one.</i> Jung and Shim, the terrible twosome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Imagine your OTP lying next to each other in bed, staring at the ceiling, embarrassed and slightly alarmed by the wild, intense, filthy sex they just had.

**Author's Note:**

> An utterly self-indulgent series of ficlets and imagineyourotp prompt fills. To be updated whenever this author has itchy fingers.

“Um,” Changmin says, wide-eyed and slightly stuttering. “Uh.”

Beside him, Yunho starts to laugh, a hysterical edge threading through his cackles. 

“Is that your boxers on the ceiling light,” Changmin states numbly. It is not a question.

“Actually, they’re yours,” Yunho manages while wheezing like a dying hyena. “But sure, they were on my ass before… Well. Yeah.”

 “Oh.” Changmin doesn’t even have it in him to feel indignant that Yunho is stealing his underwear. Again. When they don’t even live together anymore. 

Also he’s pretty sure that what they just shared was a hell lot more intimate than Yunho stretching out his underpants in extremely odd areas, because it’s only been about an hour since Yunho’s- uh- was in- in his- uh. Uh.

Uh.

(But really, he wonders how on earth his underwear gets into Yunho’s clutches now that they have two apartments in two fucking districts between them. Does Yunho filch them out of his- out of Changmin’s laundry basket? What. Does he rummage through Changmin’s underwear drawer and then wear them over his own existing shorts?  _What_.)

Changmin thinks he’s giving himself a headache trying not to think of the obvious. The white elephant in the room.

He says as much, out loud.

“Well, I don’t know about any white elephants,” Yunho returns breezily, or as breezily as he can, with the remnants of Changmin’s Alexander McQueen print silk twill spring scarf still knotted around his left wrist, and his hair sticking up all over the place. “But I do know that you kept yelling out I’m hung like an eleph-”

“Oh my God, hyung, _shut the fuck up_ ,” Changmin would scramble off of the fucking bed and across the fucking room to fucking get away from the mass of fucking stupidity beside him, but he thinks he pulled a muscle in his back. 

Yunho is undeterred. “That wasn’t what you were saying a while ago. Back then it was ‘please, hyung, more, hyung-’”

“What.” Horror gives Changmin the energy to lift his elbow and try to ram it through Yunho’s head, but all it does is knock weakly against the side of the idiot fucker’s head, traitorous body part it is. “What the fuck. What.”

“I’m just repeating what you said,” Yunho is as nonchalant as though he is commenting on the weather, even going as far to flip himself to the side enough and pull his legs up so that he’s seated, with his legs crossed in the lotus position. He wipes at the blood half-dried on his lip, with the one free hand he has, and grins, looking more than a little demented. “You were desperate, Changminnie. You  _wanted_  it.”

“Why did I even have sex with you,” Changmin garbles, looking for a pillow to suffocate himself with, but they all seem to be littering the bedroom floor. “Is stupidity contagious, because if it’s an STD, I’m so totally going to get it.”

Yunho’s grin just widens, even as he lifts his right arm to look at the various bite marks and hickeys dotting the entire appendage. He prods at a particularly interesting looking bruise at the underside of his right tricep. “I think you’ll find that my dick more than makes up for that. It’s ah, an enormous advantage, you know, maybe even  _elephantine_ -”

“That’s  _it_!” Changmn doesn’t know where he finds the strength, but he does, and he rears up and over Yunho, clapping his hand over Yunho’s mouth while leveraging his weight across Yunho’s chest in an effort to  _keep him down and make him fucking shut up and stop staying fucking idiot things, what the fuck, hyung_. 

Yunho just licks at Changmin’s palm and chortles when the other snatches it away. And then he winces. “Changminnie, not that I don’t like you lying on me like this, but you got a bit bite-happy when you tried to suck my cock just now, remember? And you’re kind of pressing on all the parts you chomped on, now.”

Changmin doesn’t know why this is his life. 

He rolls off of Yunho with a loud despairing groan, and off the bed and directly onto the floor, and stays there, gently banging his head on the hardwood floor, even as Yunho leans over the edge and pats Changmin on the head obnoxiously while going, “don’t sulk, give hyung a few minutes, okay, hyung’s not as young as he once was, but hyung will give you all the dick you want.”

Changmin really doesn’t know why this is his life.

 


	2. Imagine your OTP arguing over which of them is taller.

“Come here,” Yunho orders, without looking up from his phone.

Changmin makes a production of looking behind him, and then around the empty dance studio. “Who are you talking to? Is it me? I have a name, you know, it’s Changmin-nim. Or Shim-seongsaengnim. Whichever. I’m not picky.”

“Shut up,” Yunho says, without any heat. “And get your ass over here.”

“Call me hyung.” Is the cheeky reply. Changmin’s grin merely widens, at the narrow-eyed glance Yunho throws him.

“Well?” Changmin prods. Yunho sighs, and puts down his phone, rolling his shoulders while striding over to the other side of the studio, where the former is at. 

Changmin’s grin falls off his face, at the sight of Yunho marching towards him with steely-eyed determination. “Yah- wait, what are you- Yah! Put me down! _Yah_!” 

Setting Changmin down from the impromptu fireman’s carry hold he had the younger in, Yunho grimaces and flexes his arm. “Are you sure you’re on a diet? I think all those protein shakes and exercising are making you heavier.”

Changmin glares at him, offended. “Are you calling me  _fat_?”

“Don’t put words into my mouth,” Yunho returns mildly, and steps close, closer to Changmin, until they’re almost nose to nose. Changmin nearly sprains an eyeball trying to stare him down. “…The fuck, hyung?”

“Oh, so now _I’m_  hyung, huh?” Yunho flicks his eyes from Changmin’s forehead to his nose, and back again. “Odd.”

“Yeah, it’s really odd, can you please step back, you look seriously ugly up close like this,” Changmin says, kind of desperately, because Yunho’s eye game was intense on a good day, but up close like this it’s ridiculous. With the way he is staring, Changmin feels like there is something missing. Something like oh, maybe a one way mirror. Or a dangling fluorescent light bulb. 

“Wait. I’m checking something.” 

“What? Are you trying to find pimples on my face?” Changmin tries to back up, but Yunho has very conveniently set him down with his back against the wall. “I’m serious, I kind of can see into your nostrils like this, they’re really gross and huge from this angle-”

Yunho leans back, and glances downwards.

“Oh, thank fuck-”

He leans back in again, and and brings both arms up, framing Changmin’s head. 

“Uh, hyung,” Changmin says, gazing up at the ceiling, “Do you mind- No, actually, I don’t care if you mind, because I mind, this is kind of like something out of those bad fan written things Heechul-hyung likes to read-”

“Are you wearing insoles in your socks?”

“ _What_?”

“You’re wearing insoles in your socks, aren’t you?” Yunho insists, frowning. “You’re only taller than me by two cm. Just two. Wait, actually we measured it at Ryeong’s radio show, didn’t we, and it was like one point five? So why is your nose level with my eyebrows now?”

“No, seriously, hyung, did you spin too hard during dance practice and end up with a concussion, what the fuck is wrong with you-”

“I mean, you can’t be having a growth spurt again, right, you’re practically an old man now-”

“Fuck off, you’re older, you- you- you  _fossil_ -”

“It is bad to wear insoles in your socks,” Yunho bitches, removing one hand from the wall to stab Changmin in the chest. “It’s false advertising.”

“I’m not wearing insoles in my socks, you fucking piece of sh-”

“It makes me look bad,” Yunho continues doggedly, “it makes me look  _short_ , you’re not  _that_  much taller, you need to stop lying to people-”

“You’re the one who wears insoles in his shoes to look taller than me, it isn’t my fault that you are  _a stumpy little dwarf with stumpy little legs_ -”

“I’m not a dwarf-”

“You so are-”

“Am not!!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“ARE TOO!”

“Boys,” interrupts BoA, leaning against the studio’s door, “if you want to have angry wall sex, please do it on the many walls you have at both of your flats. Some of us actually need to use the dance studio for its original purpose. You know. To  _dance_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments welcoming me back! C:


	3. Imagine your OTP fighting over the water temperatures in the shower because Person A likes extremely hot showers and Person B likes extremely cold showers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally fucked up the temperature preferences but oh well uhhhh artistic licence?

 

  
_A random high-rise flat in Chuo-ku, Tokyo_

 

“Wanna be your superstar, superstar~”

Yunho cuts himself off mid-warble, as Changmin strolls casually into the bathroom and shoves the shower curtain aside. 

“Changmin!” Yunho squawks, one hand going to his crotch and the other heading towards his face, before making a detour towards his chest, the very picture of missish indignation. “What are you- Get out!”

“Oh stop it, it isn’t like I haven’t seen anything before,” Changmin says, crossly, stepping out of his boxer briefs and into the shower stall. “Besides, we’re running late and you’re taking too long. Manager-hyung-deul have already called me three times to get  _you_  to hurry up.”

Yunho gawks at him. “Well then, yell at me to hurry up! Knock on the door! Leave me a note! Text me! Or something! Not barge in like- like  _this_!”

“My hand was hurting too much from banging on the damn door and I wasn’t sure if you could hear me from over your shrieking.” Changmin informs him, as matter-of-fact as you please. He reaches for the shampoo bottle, grimacing as the spray from the shower head comes in contact with his skin. 

Fuck but Yunho always prefers to shower in too hot water; it’s like he wants to boil himself alive.

The man is question is still gaping at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish starving on a lack of oxygen. Changmin takes pity on him. “Come on, hyung, lighten up, it’s like being at the showers at the jjimjilbang. No big deal.”

“They have-  _cubicles_ \- at the jimjilbang, it’s not the same-” Yunho manages, while looking like he’s trying to suppress a stroke. Changmin takes advantage of his distraction by pushing the lever for the shower head to the left, because he thinks his skin is going to start sloughing off any second from the wickedly high temperature. 

The screech emitting from Yunho is impressively high compared to his usual vocal range. “The hell are you trying to do? It’s cold! Change it back!”

“No,” Changmin yelps, slapping Yunho’s hand away when it inches towards the faucet lever. “You’re going to boil us both alive! The water is too hot!”

“What are you-  _You_  barged in, not me! This is my shower! And I like them hot!” 

_‘That’s what she said’_  nearly exits Changmin’s mouth, but he settles for an incredulous “your stupid hot shower is going to give both of us second-degree burns, fucking stop it-”

“No,” Yunho snarls, hands outstretched for the lever. “ _Your_  stupid cold water is going to give us hypothermia, that’s what-”

“Don’t you dare-” Changmin shoves as hard as he can, but the shower stall a wee bit too cramped to accommodate two fully-grown men comfortably, and Yunho has Changmin’s arms trapped in some weird-ass mixed martial arts (or is it hapkido?) move.

The conditioner bottle clatters forlornly to the wet tiles below, an innocent casualty of Yunho’s elbow. Changmin steps on it and nearly breaks his neck in trying to regain his balance. 

Seeing an opening, Yunho body-checks him into the wall and grabs for the lever, a triumphant cry caught in his throat. He yanks with too much strength, however, and the long suffering lever slides all the way to the right.

“Fucking ow! What the fuck!”

“Shit shit shit, this is all your fault-”

“Turn it off! Turn it off! Turn the fucking thing off!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying, stop pushing me- Ha!”

The ensuing silence is loud, save for the _dripdripdrip_  of the shower head. Changmin glares at Yunho and runs a careful hand over his own chest. Thank fuck his nipples are still there. 

Yunho scowls back at him, just as fiercely. 

 


	4. Imagine your OTP swapping colour palettes and personalities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Was thinking about Shim dressing Jung’s body like [this](http://40.media.tumblr.com/0445307861e1f0c500a8c8e9d59f605d/tumblr_nlx3osUOqz1twqriro2_540.jpg), holding a Hérmes man-bag like [this](http://38.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m357wt38qf1qzyjtyo7_r1_250.gif); and Jung dressing Shim’s body into not-very-Shim shit like [this](http://40.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mclfwcdQCL1rje78zo1_r1_500.png) or [this](http://40.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m9w10brUNR1r2zwjro3_250.png). And with one of those hip-hop word baseball caps he loves, like [this](http://imageshack.us/a/img109/7695/111zwh.jpg). 

 

Kyuhyun takes a pull of his bottled water and nearly chokes on it the next second, at the sight of his best friend and his best friend’s… partner (Bro? Companion? Spouse? Husband? Kyuhyun doesn’t know) entering the airport lounge together. 

He sidles up to Changmin when Donghae-hyung, having caught sight of Yunho-hyung, promptly pounces and spirits the latter off into a huddle of SNSD girls. 

Changmin is still staring after Yunho, with an odd look on his face. He kind of looks constipated, Kyuhyun thinks. Maybe it’s the clothes.

Oh well. He’s the best friend. Might as well ask, and let Changmin vent some steam. Yunho-hyung probably did something normal like not lining up his shoes with a ruler, again. 

“Bro,” Kyuhyun murmurs, knocking his elbow against Changmin’s. “What’s with the b-boy fashion? You lost a bet?”

Changmin’s head snaps around so fast that Kyuhyun almost gets whiplash looking at him. 

“Oh, Kyuhyunnie! Hi!” The beaming smile Changmin aims at him is large and chock full of sunshine and also arguably the scariest thing Kyuhyun has ever seen, and Kyuhyun has seen a shitload of scary things. Namely when Siwon-hyung is in one of his stripping moods and when Donghae-hyung’s hands are near his precious Alienware and when Ryeong is hungry and that’s kind of the drift but yeah.

“Um.” Kyuhyun says, leaning slightly away, because Changmin is fucking terrifying with that giant grin, and he’s leaning towards Kyuhyun without any of his usual bitching about personal space. “Chwang. You high?”

Changmin’s smile droops into a pout that Kyuhyun last saw him use against a pot of kimchi-jeongol that wasn’t boiling quick enough for his liking. “Why would you say that, Kyuhyunnie?”

Fuck but this is scary. Kyuhyun scratches his head and casts around for another likely reason. “Have you been drinking in the morning again.”

The pout goes away, but what replaces it is still unnerving as hell. Changmin is now looking like Kyuhyun shot Mandoong in the head right in front of him. “No!”

“I mean,” Kyuhyun backpedals, both literally and figuratively. 

“I mean, you never wear any of Yunho-hyung’s caps, you called them vulgar, remember? And,” he gestures helplessly towards the huge “DOPE” emblazoned across the baseball cap perched on top of Changmin’s head, and down towards the rest of Changmin’s attire. “And… Is that Desigual? I thought you hate Desigual. I wore one of their shirts on our Jejudo trip and you said I looked like a tie-dye factory vomited on me. Remember?”

Changmin clearly doesn’t, judging by the heartbroken look he levels Kyuhyun with. 

* * *

_Later; on a plane_

“C’mon, kid. Number?” Kyuhyun knocks his elbow against Suho’s, desperate for some normalcy. 

“I think she’s an eight.” Suho doesn’t disappoint, even though he’s clearly unenthusiastic about playing their  _Rate The Girl_  game. Usually Kyuhyun does this with Changmin, to pass the time on plane rides, but his best friend is clearly in nutcase mode right now and Kyuhyun isn’t going anywhere near all that crazy. 

“Not a nine? But she smiled at us.”

“Hyung,” Suho sighs, “she  _has_  to smile at us. She’s an air-stewardess and we’re her passengers. It doesn’t mean that she’s interested in you.”

“You’re no fun, Joonmyeon,” Kyuhyun sulks, and would have said more, but the ding of the seatbelt sign turning off distracts him. There’s a bit of a commotion some rows up front, but Kyuhyun doesn’t look up, preferring to sniff in faux-disappointment instead.

“This game isn’t fun, hyung,” Suho rolls his eyes, “you-  _Jesus Christ what_.”

Kyuhyun leans over Suho to see what he’s gaping at, and is treated to the rather terrifying sight of Yunho-hyung striding down the aisle with a scowl on his face. 

“Maybe he’s heading to the loo,” Kyuhyun whispers hopefully. Never mind that there’s an airplane restroom beside the front section. “Keep really silent and he’ll just walk past us.”

It seems like they’re shit out of luck though, because Yunho-hyung stops by their row, and glares at the two of them. Beside him, Suho clenches at the armrests with white knuckled fists, practically pissing himself in fear.

Yunho-hyung’s gaze zeroes in on the younger man. “Leave,” he says.

Suho doesn’t need to be told twice. He stands up, and folds into a hasty bow while muttering “sunbae-nim”, and turns, heading for his group members clustered at the back of the Business Class section. 

_Traitor_ , Kyuhyun thinks viciously, but he pastes on a smile as he watches Yunho-hyung fold himself into the seat next to his, with a grace he usually reserves for the stage. “Uh, hi, hyung.”

“You absolute bastard.” Yunho-hyung says tonelessly. 

Kyuhyun wonders if he is going to die. A bead of sweat prickles along the hair at the back of his neck. “Uh, why, um, why would you say that, hyung-nim?”

“It’s  _me_ , you idiot.” 

“Uhhhhhh, I know, hyung-nim,” Kyuhyun searches for his composure. The bead of sweat is halfway down his back. “Did uh- Have I done something? Did Hyukjae-hyung complain to you about me being late to SuJu rehearsals again? Because I swear, there was traffic, and I - erp.”

Yunho-hyung looks down at the fist he has clenched around Kyuhyun’s collar, and back up, while dragging Kyuhyun closer. “It’s  _me_ , you jackass. Shim Chwang.”

Kyuhyun blinks. He blinks again, and whispers an uncertain “okay?”

Yunho-hyung grits his teeth and hisses through them. “It’s really me, Kyu. Me. Changmin.”

“Hyung-nim,” Kyuhyun begins carefully, “it’s okay to… Not be okay. Uh. Did you have a fight with Changmin? I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it-”

Yunho-hyung hauls Kyuhyun closer and snarls quietly into his face, “your girlfriend dumped you last year because you lost a game to me in Starcraft and wanted to text ‘you fucking cocksucking bitch’ to me but sent it to her number by mistake instead.”

“Wow,” Kyuhyun laughs weakly, “Changmin really does tell you everything, huh?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake-” Yunho-hyung releases Kyuhyun’s collar, but keeps his voice low, “you jerked off to Victoria in the Hot Summer video when it first came out and you couldn’t look at her in the eye for three months after that.”

“Wait-  _what_. How did you…. Oh my god.” Kyuhyun grabs for Yunho-hyu- for _Changmin’s_ (????????) jaw, twisting it from side to side, google-eyed. The glare that’s currently levelled at him looks really alien on Yunho-hyung’s face, but if he replaces it with the face of his best friend (!!?!?!?!) in his head… “Ch-  _Chwang_? What the everlasting fuck?”

“Thank fuck.” Yu- Changmin mutters, falling back against the seat with an exhausted sigh. 

“How?” Kyuhyun knows he’s gaping really unattractively, but he cannot really bring himself to care. Not when his best friend looks like…. that. Like that. Like…  _that_. “I mean…  _How_?”

“Fuck if I know. We woke up like this.” Changmin says, pinching fingers at the bridge of his- at the bridge of Yunho-hyung’s nose. Kyuhyun can feel a headache coming on.

He pokes a finger at the sleeve of a coat he belatedly recognises as Changmin’s. It doesn’t look half bad on Yunho-hyung’s body, to be honest. So do the buttoned-down-shirt-and-skinny-jeans look, and the hand-tooled Italian loafers. “…Whoa. The  _fuck_?”

“Tell me about it.” Changmin sighs, frowning. 

…Yunho-hyung really does look kind of attractive while frowning. Kyuhyun can’t fault his best friend’s taste, really. 

He chokes on air the next second, because if Yunho-hyung is Changmin, that means at the airport lounge- Changmin in Desigual- shit- that means that was Y-

“Fuck!” Kyuhyun grabs at Y- Changmin’s arm, “don’t kill me, bro, but I think I kind of fucked up-”

“Yeah,” Changmin narrows his eyes at him, “I was coming over to bitch at you about that. What the hell? Now he thinks I’ve been lying to him all along whenever I tell him he looks good in something!” 

“I- Sorry,” fumbles Kyuhyun, feeling bad. “How was I supposed to know- You really did say that Desigual looks like shit-”

“It looks shit on you. It doesn’t look shit on  _him_.” 

“Wow bro, thanks,” Kyuhyun says sardonically while holding his hands up, palms facing out. “What happened to bros before hoes?”

“Are you calling Yunho a ho?” Changmin flares up.

Kyuhyun stares at him.

Changmin stares back. 

Then they both crack up. 

“‘Calling Yunho a ho’,” Kyuhyun mimics through snickers. “Ho a ho, ho ho ho ho-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Changmin chokes out. “Shut the fuck up- and help me think of a way out of this mess, dickhead!”

 

 


End file.
